


A Little Superstitious Now

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bodyswap, During Canon, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: The thing about spells was that they rarely worked in real life like they did on TV or in the movies. A body-swap story!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

A Little Superstitious Now

**Title** \- a little superstitious now  
**Pairing** \- Sam/Dean  
**Rating** \- NC17  
**Size** \- ~9000 words  
**Spoilers** \- None  
  
for jj ♥  
  
  
  
  
  
_**a little superstitious now**_  
  
  
The thing about spells was that they rarely worked in real life like they did on TV or in the movies.   
  
Well. Sometimes they did. Sometimes a spell was the kind that you could read about in every fairy tale ever written. One that wouldn't show up until after the person had a long night's sleep. They'd go to bed perfectly normal, and then wake up the next morning and only be able to speak French when they'd never known a single word in their life. Or they'd have wings or feathers or gills. Something like that.  
  
But most often a spell was just that. A spell. And once it was cast it was cast instantly, no time to think about it or redo whatever was done to cause it in the first place.   
  
Which was why, when Dean picked up the amulet from the jewelry box, he knew instantly what was happening.   
  
"Ah, shit. Sammy!" he called out. His vision blurred and the floor was hard against his knees when he fell. He heard Sam's panicked voice calling his name, and then felt the warm press of his fingers curled around Dean's arm.   
  
"Dean - what? What is it?"  
  
A pain shot clear through Dean's head, making his eyes throb and his teeth ache. He reached down and grabbed onto the nearest part of Sam he could find. He was pretty sure it was a thigh.   
  
"I just - I can't see anything. God _dammit_ , Sammy-"  
  
Heat pulsed from under Dean's palm against the denim covering Sam's leg. Dean gripped tighter, felt Sam's fingers squeeze around his arm, and then he heard Sam calling out his name, yelling something, though Dean couldn't tell what.   
  
He realized his mistake just a split-second too late. By the time Dean thought enough to pull his hand away from Sam and toss the amulet as far as he could across the room (some spells, when cast, would automatically draw in anything else touching the affected person. He _knew_ this. _Shit_.) the pain behind his eyes was receding a little bit. Everything was coming back into focus.   
  
Dean yanked his hand back. Shook it out. Rubbed a hand over his face and blinked his eyes slowly.   
  
"Sam," Dean said. "You all right?"  
  
The minute Dean heard his voice he realized what happened. It took another second to clear his vision, but when he did he looked over at Sam and, yep. There was no way around it. They were completely fucked.   
  
*  
  
"Tell me how this happens, Dean," Sam said for at least the tenth time in six minutes. "I don't get it."  
  
"I don't _know_ , Sam," Dean answered, and shit. How many times were they going to have this conversation? "But I do know that you asking me the same damn questions over and over isn't gonna change it."  
  
Dean dug into his pocket looking for the motel room key. For a second he thought he lost it in all the confusion, which would be just perfect, but then he realized it where it was.   
  
"Dude." He snapped his fingers in Sam's direction. "Gimme the key."  
  
"Give you the what?"  
  
"The key. The room key?" Dean rolled his eyes. This was the most fucked up thing ever. "In your right front pocket."  
  
Sam huffed but checked the pocket and there it was. He slapped it against Dean's palm. "We've got to fix this."  
  
"No shit, Einstein," Dean muttered. He twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open, Sam close on his heels.   
  
There was crap strewn all across the floor. Shirts and jeans and jackets. Fast food wrappers and bags covering the table against the window. The TV was still playing from before they went out, showing the same sports loop on ESPN.   
  
Sam pushed past him and went straight for the bathroom. Dean just followed the groans.   
  
"Dean. Oh my god." The worst part was that Sam wasn't just pissed off anymore, now he was freaked. Dean could tell.   
  
"Sammy, listen," Dean started to say, but just then he came up from behind Sam's back and caught a glance of himself in the mirror. And. Well. It was--  
  
"Dean," Sam moaned. "We switched _bodies_."  
  
Dean rolled his (Sam's) eyes. Looked at how his hand moving caused Sam's body (that he was _in_ ) to move. Saw Sam's expression, but from his own eyes, and drawled, "Well thank you, Captain Obvious."  
  
Sam pushed back from the mirror and, whoa. At least now Dean knew what his pissed off face looked like.  
  
"You know, maybe you think this is funny, Dean-"  
  
"I think this is _funny_?" Dean followed Sam out of the bathroom and watched him flop on the bed, arms thrown wide, and got totally sidetracked. He whistled softly. "Damn, Sammy. I'm _hot_."   
  
"If you don't start taking this seriously I'm going to choke you," Sam said evenly, staring up at the ceiling. Dean had to remember to do that jaw-clenching thing that Sam was doing more often. It was pretty menacing.   
  
"All right, all right. Fine. Move over." Sam shifted on the bed and Dean sat down next to him, trying to figure out how to maneuver the longer arms and extra few inches of height. He pulled Sam's jacket off and tossed it onto the other bed. Sam's bangs were falling in his face. "Man, how do you see?"  
  
Sam sighed. "Dean."  
  
"Right. Okay." He held his hands palms up. (Sam's hands. His fingers were a lot longer and thinner. And he was missing his ring. Weird.) "So. We switched bodies."  
  
Sam snorted. "And you call me Captain Obvious."  
  
"What we need to do," Dean said, ignoring him "Is figure out how to switch back."  
  
"Oh. Oh, really? Is that it?" Sam sat up, ran a hand through Dean's hair on his head, and curled his lip. "Man. How much shit do you put in your hair in the morning? You sure you're not a chick?" he said, yanking his hand back and wiping it on the bedspread.  
  
"Ha ha." Dean smacked Sam's knee. "So, Braniac. You have any ideas on how to change us back?"  
  
Sam sighed. Rolled his eyes and shook his head and, damn. Dean really couldn't get over how _hot_ he actually was. He always knew it, but it was more of an intellectual thing. But this. Being able to see it right in front of him.   
  
"Are you checking yourself out again?" Sam snapped.  
  
Dean glared. "Would you rather I lock myself in the bathroom and check _you_ out?"  
  
"Oh. Don't you _dare_." Sam glared in his direction.  
  
Dean blinked. Sam wasn't going to like this. "Dude. I hate to break it to you, but until we can figure out how to fix this we're kind of stuck. So unless you want me to not shower _your_ body until we figure out what's going on-"  
  
"Oh, god."  
  
"I say you just get used to the fact that this is us now. You and me, and just - roll with it, little brother." He slapped Sam's leg again. "Just think, it could be worse."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, and it was amazing. Even in Dean's face the eyeroll was all Sammy. "How? How could this _possibly_ be worse?"  
  
Dean leaned over and whispered, "'Cause at least in my body you might get laid."  
  
His arm stung for the rest of the night from the punch Sam gave him.  
  
*  
  
Dean didn't get much sleep that night. Sam's clothes were baggier than Dean usually wore his own, and every time he rolled over in bed Sam's stupid flannel pants twisted around his legs. Plus there was the whole _Night spent not in my own body_ thing, so by the time morning rolled around Dean had gotten about half an hour of sleep.   
  
Even better was that Sam woke up crankier than Dean.  
  
"Where are you going," Sam grunted from the bed. He had an arm thrown over his eyes and was yawning. Dean tried not to stare at himself across the room, but the whole thing was so fucked up he felt like he couldn't even begin to start figuring it all out.   
  
Sam let his arm fall away and glared when he saw Dean staring. "Uh. To take a leak," Dean quickly answered. He spun around and locked himself in the bathroom.   
  
Dean had seen Sam first thing in the morning more times than he could remember. They were brothers; they grew up together. Except for the last few years when Sam was away at school, Dean had spent almost every morning of his life looking at Sam after he first woke up in the morning.   
  
Of course, he was never looking as Sam while _in his body_ before, but hell. Given what they did every day, nothing really surprised Dean anymore.   
  
He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Scratched his belly and, whoa. Hey. It looked like _little_ Sammy was realizing it was morning.   
  
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, god. Great." He stood there for a minute. Tried thinking about blood and guts and gore and creepy old women in their underwear. Nothing.   
  
He jumped when Sam bashed his fist on the door. "Dean. What the hell is taking you so long?"  
  
"Jesus, Sam. Give a guy a minute, will you?" Dean groused.   
  
Sam's voice when it came again was low and threatening. "Dude. If you're - _doing_ anything in there, I swear to god I'll-"  
  
Dean yanked the door open and threw his arms out. "Holy shit, Sam, I'm trying to take a piss. Do you wanna fucking hold it for me or something? Christ. You think I'm liking this any better than you are?"  
  
Sam clenched his teeth. Dean had never seen himself looking this pissed off for so long. Sam truly had a gift. "Fine. I apologize."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I'm just a little freaked out."  
  
"Yeah, well." Dean shook his head. Sam's bangs fell in front of his eyes and he wondered if he'd be able to shake Sam long enough today to get a haircut. "Join the club."  
  
Sam dropped his head and backed away, and thankfully his (Sam's - whoever's) dick had calmed down. Dean slammed the door and yanked his pants down. "Jesus Christ," he muttered as he aimed at the bowl, closed his eyes, and grabbed his brother's dick. "All this aggravation to take a leak. Terrific."  
  
*  
  
By the time they both got showered and dressed and out of the room, Dean wasn't sure whose face was redder, his or Sam's. He nearly cracked his skull open climbing into the tub (there may have only been a few inches difference between them, but goddammit if Dean wasn't having a bitch of a time navigating the extra height), and then spent far too long wondering why Sam insisted on covering up the really hot body he apparently had.   
  
The mistake he probably made, though, was coming out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, and declaring, "Sam. Dude. Maybe if you wore some clothes that fit or showed this body off or something, you'd finally get some." He flexed his arm and watched the muscle jump. "You got some _serious_ upper body strength going on here."  
  
Sam climbed off the bed and looked Dean straight in the eye. "I really hate you," he said flatly. Dean shrugged and dug around in Sam's bag for something that fit better than an ugly brown plaid shirt. When he was finally dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, with his hair combed back off his face, he kicked back on the bed and flipped through the channels on the TV.   
  
"So where are we headed today?" he called out. He glanced over at the clock. Just a little after nine. That gave them plenty of time to figure out what the hell was going on with them and change it back somehow.   
  
The water turned off in the bathroom, and Sam came out a few minutes later, dripping wet and holding a towel around his waist.   
  
Dean huffed. "Dude. You want to dry off a little? I got sensitive skin. One day in my body and you're already killing me here."  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes and yanked a shirt over his head. "I'm going to the library to try and look up if anything like this ever happened in this town. See if we can figure something out," Sam said, ignoring Dean and his skin issues. "You should go back to the house, see if you can find that amulet and bring it back. Maybe we can, I don't know, touch it again and switch back."  
  
"Yeah, all right. Fine." Dean rubbed a hand over his face while Sam finished getting dressed. "Just do me a favor?"   
  
When Sam turned around, Dean was freaked out all over again. He lost track of what he was even saying, because he was looking at his own face, but with Sam's expressions. He was never going to get used to this.   
  
Sam though, Sam was still _really_ freaking out, Dean could tell, and the last thing they needed was to _both_ be freaking out, so it looked like the role of Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected would need to be played by Dean this time.  
  
Which wasn't a problem. Dean could do calm, cool, and collected. He smirked and said, "Just do me a favor and don't spend too long in the library, all right? People see someone they think is me in a library too long and I'll never get laid again."  
  
For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, Sam laughed.   
  
*  
  
The day was a total bust, and by seven PM, Dean and Sam were sitting at a corner table in a small bar Dean found just down the road from the motel. The place was small and quiet. A cute blonde was working behind the bar and there were a few college age kids shooting pool on the lopsided table in the back.   
  
Dean pushed away the rest of his burger and sipped his beer. Sam had tanked at the library - no information on anything like this ever happening in the town - while Dean had walked right back into the house, found where he tossed the amulet, and shoved it in his pocket. Him and Sam spent close to two hours in the motel room taking turns touching it, holding it, sniffing it. Hell. Dean would have _licked_ the fucking thing if he thought it would help.   
  
Nothing. Not a damn thing happened. No shimmery lights. No screechy noises. And no changing back into their own bodies.   
  
Sam's foot kicked Dean's shin under the table and Dean hissed and dragged his leg back. "Easy, man. This is your body you're banging up."  
  
"Well, I can't help it with these fifty pound boots on," Sam bitched. "Seriously, Dean. How the hell do you walk around in these things?"  
  
Dean had his mouth open to answer - something about how his boots were better than the ugly, '70's sneakers that Sam wore - when the bartender wandered over with two new beers and a smile.   
  
"Here you go, guys," she said as she placed them on the table.   
  
Dean leaned back and stretched his arm out over the top of the booth. He smiled his best smile and said, "Thank you, darlin'," but the girl - she wouldn't stop staring at Sam.   
  
Sam, who was in _Dean's_ body, so, sure. That made sense. And it was even kind of like Dean was the one getting picked up, if you squinted.  
  
Sam though, being Sam, did nothing. No smiling, no flirting. Just sat there, barely acknowledged the girl, and took a sip of his drink.   
  
Dean waited until the bartender was gone before reaching over and smacking him on the side of the head.   
  
"Jesus!" Sam rubbed a hand over his head and glared. "What the hell was that for?"  
  
"That girl was totally checking you out. Or me. Whatever. She was totally checking _us_ out, and lemme tell you, Sammy, if you think you're gonna be in my body for god knows how long and not even _try_ and get laid-"  
  
Sam shifted in his seat. "You know, Dean," he started to say, but then stopped and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of Christ." He made a weird, uncomfortable face that Dean couldn't decipher and said, "Are you _always_ like this?"  
  
Dean stopped talking mid-sentence and blinked. "Like what?"  
  
Sam moved again and scrunched his face up. Dean finally figured out what was going on and smiled. "So you _did_ like the blonde."  
  
"No, Dean," Sam said flatly. " _You_ did, apparently. And trust me, she's not the first one you've _liked_ today."  
  
"Well, all right." Dean chuckled and leaned back. "Did I find anyone to like a _lot_?" Because if Sammy got him laid and didn't tell him, that was just plain rude.   
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "No. You did not."  
  
Dean shrugged and grabbed his beer. Now that Sam mentioned it, though, it was kind of weird that, after all day seeing people, the hot little blonde bartender, all sorts of things, it was just weird that after all of that, the only time Sam (or Sam's body, at least) was interested in sex was first thing in the morning. Not that Dean was interested all the time like Sam was accusing him of.   
  
Well maybe he was. That wasn't the point.   
  
The point was it was almost like Sam had no interest at all. In anyone. Like it didn't even exist for him or something.  
  
Dean heard Sam say his name at the same moment he heard a loud crack against the tiled floor. He looked over to see the cue ball from the pool table rolling toward him. Dean reached down and palmed the ball, then flipped it to one of the college guys that had been playing a game.   
  
"Hey, thanks," the guy said. He smiled at Dean, wide and bright. Dean said, "No problem," and felt himself get instantly, blindingly hard when the guy smiled at him again and turned to walk away.   
  
Dean blinked, then looked back at Sam, his mouth hanging open. "Sam?" He licked his lips. "Is there a reason-"  
  
"Oh my god." Sam leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. "Kill me now."  
  
The whole thing made sense, when Dean thought about it, but then it didn't make sense too. It made sense because Dean was in Sam's body, and apparently he now knew why Sam didn't seem particularly interested in anyone with tits all day long. But it also didn't make sense, because of the fact that Dean knew Sam liked girls. He _knew_ it.   
  
"So. What about Jess?" Dean asked, quietly.   
  
Sam flinched, the same way he did every time someone mentioned Jess's name. "I loved Jess," he said quietly.   
  
Dean nodded, waiting for the _but_. "I know you did."  
  
Sam seemed to take a deep breath. He blew it out at the ceiling and lifted his head to meet Dean's eyes. "But," he said, and Dean felt himself smile a little. "But I like guys, too. I always have. So…" Sam trailed off, reaching out to spin his beer bottle in circles on the table. "So there it is."  
  
Dean waited until Sam looked back up at him to smile and kick Sam's shin lightly under the table. "Well hell, Sammy," Dean said around a grin. "Maybe we've got even more in common than we realized." He tilted his bottle toward Sam in a toast.   
  
Sam cocked an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, dumbly.  
  
Dean sat there, holding the bottle, and frowned. "Dude. You're the college genius. Think about what we're talking about for a minute, and then think about what I just said."  
  
He could almost see when Sam replayed the whole conversation in his head. When he hit the key parts, and when he finally came to the - _eureka!_ \- conclusion.   
  
"What?" Sam asked. " _You_?" He laughed sharply. "Don't fuck with me, dude. You're the biggest womanizer on two feet."  
  
"That's true," Dean said. "But not only women."  
  
"You're kidding me," Sam said flatly. Dean just stared at him. "You're _not_ kidding me." Dean nodded and Sam laughed. "I felt like this all goddamned day. I just never even thought-" Sam shook his head. "Really? _You_?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm hardly about to go sticking rainbow decals on the back of the car or anything, but," Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah. Sometimes."  
  
Sam leaned back. He laughed softly and now Dean also knew what his shocked face looked like. If this whole thing weren't so fucked up, he might have found it useful even.   
  
Sam, though, he started laughing even louder. "All right, all right. What?" Dean said. Sam just laughed harder still. "Sammy, I'm serious. If you're gonna be a dick about this you can just fuck off."  
  
"No, wait." Sam waved a hand in the air and tried to catch his breath. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm not. I just-" He shook his head and smiled at Dean, wide and bright. And man, maybe it was Dean's own face looking back at it, but that was all Sammy's smile.   
  
"Seriously, Dean," Sam said. "Can our lives even _get_ more fucked up?"  
  
Dean tried to keep a straight face. He took a sip of his beer and said, "I dunno. I guess we could wake up tomorrow with wings or something."  
  
He raised his eyes to Sam's and that was it. Dean couldn't hold it any more. He leaned back and laughed harder than he remembered doing in years.   
  
"To our fucked up lives, man," Sam said, tapping the mouth of his bottle to Dean's. Dean just smiled.   
  
*  
  
The next morning Dean woke up with a killer headache. Apparently Sam couldn't hold his liquor like Dean could, which was annoying. So if he stayed Sam much longer that meant that Dean wasn't ever going to be able to get drunk or laid again.   
  
"Great," he muttered.   
  
The sun was shining bright through the thin motel curtains. Dean could hear the shower going in the bathroom. "Sure. He probably feels fine. Fucking hangover, my ass. I haven't felt like this in years." Dean grumbled to himself for another minute before throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and trying to muster up the energy to get up and move around.   
  
He heard the shower turn off and then the towel being yanked off the bar on the wall. At least Sam was planning on drying off today.   
  
Dean got up and wandered over to the mirror. It was weird, but he was actually getting kind of used to seeing Sam's face looking back at him. Not that he wanted to stay like this forever - Dean had a certain fondness for his own body and all its parts - but maybe being Sam wasn't all that bad.   
  
He ran a hand over his face. Sam needed to shave a lot less than Dean did, which was cool. Two days and he was barely showing any stubble, where Dean could shave three times a day and still go to bed with a five o'clock shadow. Dean opened his mouth. Checked out Sam's teeth. Pulled down the skin under his eyes and stared at his eyeballs. He ran a hand through his hair and held it off his forehead and wondered again why Sam left it hanging over his forehead all the time.   
  
"Hey, dude," Dean called out. "I was thinking-"  
  
"Yeah, wait. Gimme a minute!" Sam called back.   
  
Dean shrugged and turned his head to check out Sam's ears.   
  
Sam was a good looking guy. Not as good looking as Dean was, but Dean could see how Sam could maybe go out and get a few dates - guys or girls. Hell. He was Dean's brother. There had to be some good genes floating around in their blood.   
  
He opened his mouth and checked out Sam's teeth again. Wondered when he got that bottom molar filled when he realized how long Sam had been hogging the bathroom.   
  
Dean stalked over to the door and banged his fist against it. "Dude. Sammy. What the fuck-"  
  
Sam whipped the door open, and Dean got a good look at his face. At his _own_ face, and shit. Dean _knew_ that look. Hell, he'd jerked off enough times to know what he looked like after he came, his cheeks flushed and breathing hard, thanks very much.   
  
"Oh, man, Sammy? You've got to be kidding me."  
  
Sam's mouth was open. "Dean, I don't know what happened."  
  
"I think we both know what happened, Sam." Dean dropped his eyes to Sam's waist.  
  
"No. I mean, I know what _happened,_ yeah, but I don't know why." Sam took a deep breath. He looked like he wanted to kill himself.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. He pointed a finger at Sam's chest and said, "Whatever the reason, that's it, brother. You owe me one. Or, I owe you one. Something like that."  
  
"I _what_?" Sam sputtered. "Listen, Dean. I had no _choice_. Do you have any idea what it's like to walk around for _two days_ like that?"  
  
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean practically yelled. He was damn tired of Sam acting like he was the only one this was happening to. "I do know, because it's _my body_."  
  
Sam jaw was clenching. He was breathing hard through his nose, but Dean could tell that he was more pissed off than anything. Dean stepped as close as he could and finally had the advantage of being able to tower over his little brother. "Did I like it at least?"  
  
"Dean. I swear." Sam shook his head. "I didn't even look. I just - I was as quick as I could and -"  
  
"Man. Maybe I don't even want to hear this." Dean took a small step away. The bathroom was tiny and still steamy and warm from Sam's shower. It smelled like Sam, like Sam's shampoo and cologne. Dean was still in one of Sam's t-shirts and a pair of flannel pants, but Sam. Sam was in nothing but a towel, his hair wet and slicked back and - jesus. Dean knew he was looking at himself - he really did. But there was something about this whole thing. About him and about Sam and for the life of him Dean couldn't figure out what it was.  
  
"Move," Dean grumbled. He knocked against Sam's shoulder with his own and tried to deal with the fact that he was suddenly, achingly hard, standing next to his brother, who was in his own body. It was too fucked up to even try and figure out.   
  
Sam looked up at him. "Dean," he said, and something about it. Something about his voice.   
  
Dean closed his eyes. "Sam, just - don't worry about it, okay?" He didn't even know what to say.   
  
"I'll, uh. I'm gonna go get dressed," Sam said, and practically ran from the room.   
  
Dean wiped off the mirror with a towel. He stared at Sam's face looking back at him. What he needed to do was take a deep breath. Think about things like figuring out how to get them back in their bodies, for starters, and not about jerking off with his brother's dick. Which would probably feel pretty good right now.   
  
Dean closed his eyes. Tried to picture what was around them when they touched the amulet. What was he doing or seeing. There had to be something, some clue.  
  
He leaned against the counter and his dick pressed right up against the sink. Dean groaned softly and bit his lip. Jesus. Did Sam wake up like this every morning? Because Dean might win for frequency, but Sam pretty much kicked his ass when it came to urgency. And Dean put it off yesterday because he was being nice, but Sam had already made sure that all those bets were off today.   
  
He gave up. Reached down, grabbed Sam's dick through his pants, and holy fuck. That felt so fucking good. Sam was as big as him, and maybe a little thicker, not that Dean would ever admit that out loud. Though by this point Dean didn't really think the two of them had too many secrets left.  
  
Dean leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, but then realized that he wanted watch. To see. To know what Sam looked like while he jerked off, while he was coming, and that thought, right there, had Dean harder than he remembered being in his life.  
  
He moved his hand slowly, up and down, and wondered what Sam liked. What he did to himself when he was like this. Did he like it hard or fast or rough. Dean wanted to know, wanted Sam to show him, and when the idea hit, Dean bit back a moan and pushed back from the counter before he could think about it twice.   
  
He threw the bathroom door open and said, "Sammy," and Jesus, was that even him talking? Because that was the most Dean-sounding thing to come out of his mouth in two days. "Sam."  
  
Sam jumped up from where he was sitting on the bed. He started to say, "What's wrong-" but then stopped. Looked at Dean, at that state he was in, and Dean saw him swallow hard. "Dean," Sam said, voice low.   
  
Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Sam, I have an idea."  
  
"An idea?" Sam cocked his head to the side and gave him a small smile. "Is that like your version of a lightbulb over the head you got going over there?"  
  
Dean crossed the room. "Sam, you do it," Dean said. Sam just looked at him, started to shake his head, but Dean kept talking. "Listen to me," he said. "I know it sounds crazy but it's your body. You know what you like. It'll be like - I don't know. Like jerking off or something."  
  
Sam laughed sharply. "Dean. It's nothing like jerking off, I hate to tell you." But he stepped closer when he said it. Dean could tell he was thinking about it. "I don't know, Dean."  
  
"Right, you're right. Forget I said anything." Dean went to turn around, but then Sam was reaching for him. Grabbing his arm and pulling him back.  
  
"Wait." he said quietly. "You sure?"  
  
Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah."   
  
Sam was watching him with Dean's eyes. He could see Sam take a shallow breath, lick his lips. "It's so weird," he whispered. He touched his hand slowly to Dean's chest. Dean could feel the heat from his fingers. The slow rub of Sam's thumb against his skin. "It's like it's you, but it's me."  
  
Dean hissed in a breath. Sam's hand slipped down his chest, fingers skating across his belly and then up over his stomach. "God. That's really good," Dean breathed.  
  
Sam smiled at him slowly. "Well. That's the whole point, right? That I know what I like better than you do." When he moved his other hand and dragged a thumbnail across Dean's nipple, Dean thought he was going to fall to the ground. "Holy shit," he gasped. "That doesn't usually get me like that."  
  
"I know," Sam said with a little laugh. "I noticed that this morning."  
  
Sam's hands were moving slowly, but with intent. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it. Pressing soft lips against Dean's collarbone, across his chest. Biting just hard enough, just wet enough to have Dean clenching his hands in fists. When he felt the backs of his knees hit the bed, he fell back onto the twisted blankets and sheets.   
  
"Jesus, Sammy," Dean whispered. He blinked up at the ceiling and wondered how the hell his life had ever gotten this fucked up.   
  
Sam was following Dean onto the bed. His mouth was curved in a knowing grin. His body was warm against Dean's side, and then he was crawling up next to him, leaning over and touching his mouth to Dean's.   
  
Dean knew he was kissing Sam in his own body. He knew that it was physically his own mouth he was touching. These were his own eyes he was looking into. Dean knew that all in his brain. But somehow, under it all, it was Sam. Dean knew that too.  
  
Sam's hands were pushing Dean's pants down, brushing over his cock. His fingers were tight and moving slower than Dean ever did on himself, but man, did it feel fucking good.   
  
Dean closed his eyes and turned his head toward Sam. When Sam kissed him again his mouth was hot, his kiss dirty and desperate. He was still working his hand, slow and hard, his thumb rubbing across the head and Dean couldn't ever remember - he didn't ever think-  
  
"God. Sam. That's so fucking good. Jesus."  
  
"I know what I like," Sam breathed against Dean's throat. "Now show me what you like, Dean. C'mon."  
  
He could feel where Sam was pressing against him, hard again, and wanting. Dean popped the button of Sam's jeans, pushing them down his hips as quickly as he could.   
  
"I can never understand why you wear your shit so tight," Sam said, his voice shaking a little. He was still working Dean in his fist, jacking him so slow and steady. Dean's whole body felt like it was on fire.   
  
Sam managed to get his jeans kicked off, and then Dean was kissing his mouth hard - harder than he ever kissed anyone - and reaching down to grab Sam's dick - _his_ dick - and squeezing roughly.   
  
" _Fuck_ , Dean." Sam shivered under his hands, and Dean thought _Yeah. Now you know what I like._  
  
Sam's hand started moving faster. Shorter, sharper strokes, and Dean knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He forced his eyes open and found Sam already watching him, mouth parted, cheeks flushed a bright pink.   
  
"Sam," Dean breathed. "Sam, please." When Sam twisted his hand and jerked him fast a few more times, that was it, Dean was done. He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, Sam's hand slowing down until he wasn't moving at all.   
  
Dean couldn't even open his eyes. Every part of him felt bone-weary. "You all right?" Sam asked quietly.   
  
"Yeah. 'M'good. Just gimme a minute."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Sam said quietly. His head was tucked against Dean's throat. He was still hard in Dean's hand and Dean squeezed him gently, just to feel him shiver. "Dean. God," he whispered.   
  
Dean felt Sam's hand curl around his fingers. Both their hands moved slow, gripping Dean as tight as he knew he liked it. He forced his eyes open and watched Sam's face, and suddenly, for the first time since the spell was cast, Dean really hated the whole situation.   
  
He missed seeing Sam. He wanted his brother back. He wanted this, and he wanted Sam, and when the realization hit him, Dean's whole world shifted.  
  
"I want to see you come, Sammy," he breathed.  
  
Sam shook, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. "Dean, I'm gonna-"  
  
"Listen to me. I want to see _you_ come," Dean growled. He moved his hand faster, knew by the way Sam was breathing that he was close. "When this is all over I want this again. _You_ again." Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's forehead. Tasted sweat against his lips. "Do you get me, Sammy?"  
  
Sam choked out something between a laugh and a sob. "Yeah. Yes. God, Dean, I want that too. I want--"  
  
"Come on, come on." Dean pulled another few times, and that was it. Sam was digging his fingers into Dean's arm, gasping and moaning and coming all over his fist.   
  
Dean waited for his heart to slow down to normal, before rolling onto his back, dragging Sam up against his side. Sam's whole body was slick with sweat. His chest was heaving, breath warm against Dean's shoulder.   
  
Dean stared up at the ceiling. "So," he said, trying to sound something close to normal. "I guess sex isn't the thing that's gonna turn us back."  
  
Sam buried his head against Dean's shoulder and laughed so hard his entire body shook. "Yeah," he managed to get out between gasps. "I guess not."  
  
Dean turned his head. Sam was still laughing a little. Dean couldn't even figure out how he was doing it, but now every time he looked at Sam he saw _Sam_ , and not himself. It might be his own features, but everything about him, from the crinkle around his eyes when he smiled, to the easy, open laugh, was all his brother.   
  
"We're gonna have to talk about this," Dean said softly when they'd both quieted down.   
  
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I know. But not yet. Not like this."  
  
Dean pulled him closer and closed his eyes. "Yeah, I know."  
  
*  
  
After Sam took a second shower and Dean managed to make it into his first, they went to a small diner down the road from the hotel. It was late enough that most of the morning rush was over, and they had the place pretty much to themselves. Nothing but some food, two cups of coffee, and the amulet lying on the table in between their plates.   
  
"I just don't get it," Dean said, poking the stone in the necklace with his finger. "If touching it once turned us this way, you'd think touching it again would change us back."  
  
"Yeah, but it's not that simple, Dean," Sam said.   
  
Dean looked up and glared. "You know, it's amazing how you manage to be a buzzkill even when you're in my body."  
  
Sam flipped him the bird.   
  
This whole thing was getting tiring. He was tired of dragging around Sam's extra weight and inches. Tired of having to jerk around with his hair for twenty minutes a day. Tired of not fucking being _himself_.  
  
He grabbed the amulet in his hand. "Stupid fucking thing. I oughta just-"  
  
Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's wrist just as he was about to whack the amulet back on the table.   
  
"Wait," Sam said, with more excitement in his voice than Dean had heard in a hell of a long time. "Maybe that's it."  
  
"Sammy, talking in riddles isn't really gonna get you far today."  
  
"The spell, Dean," Sam said, shaking Dean's wrist. He grabbed the amulet from Dean's hand and held it up to the light. "We have to get rid of this."  
  
"Oh. Sure. Because tossing that thing in the trash is exactly what's gonna turn us back," Dean huffed. Sam wasn't even making sense anymore. "Man, I'm sure glad you spent all that money on your fancy college there, Einstein," he muttered.  
  
Sam smacked him on the side of the head. "Asshole. I don't mean throw it away. I mean _get rid of it_."  
  
Dean had his mouth open to keep making fun of Sam's lame idea, when suddenly it didn't seem quite as stupid anymore. He leaned back against the booth and folded his arms across his chest. "Huh. You mean like, burn it or something?"  
  
"Burn, explode, crack, who the hell cares." The chain of the necklace hung from Sam's fist. "If the spell is trapped with the amulet, _in_ the amulet, if we break it, the spell can get out."  
  
"I don't know, man." Dean shook his head. "That seems kinda lame."  
  
"Right," Sam said with a nod. "And easy. Which was why we never thought of it to begin with. Dean." When Dean looked up, Sam was watching him with a look he'd never seen before. "Maybe it really is just that easy."  
  
Dean didn't believe him. Hell. He wanted to. But in Dean's experience nothing ever came free or easy.   
  
"Oh, god," he heard Sam mutter. He looked up in time to see him getting up from his seat and tossing some bills on the table for their breakfast. "Does brooding come with the body, or something? Man, I don't know how you don't just drown me in the river sometimes if I sit around with that face all day."  
  
Dean laughed, sharp and loud. "Oh, believe me, little brother. I've thought about it."  
  
Sam smiled at him. "Come on, Dean." He swung the amulet from his fist. "Quit thinking and let's find a place to burn this bitch."  
  
*  
  
They wound up going back to the motel, but parking in the farthest parking spot away from the buildings that they could find. There were only a few other cars in the lot with them, and most of the doors and windows of the rooms were closed.   
  
Dean had wanted to find a patch of woods someplace to be a little more private, but Sam said no, who the hell knew what was going to happen when they cracked the amulet, and the last thing they needed to do was set a forest fire.   
  
They parked the car in the lot and huddled between it and the motel dumpster. Dean was kneeling on the pavement and Sam was crouched, the amulet lying on the ground between them.   
  
"Got the lighter fluid?" Sam asked.   
  
Dean handed it over. Sam doused the amulet and looked up at Dean, his eyes shining. "You gonna light it now or what."  
  
"I will when you give me the matches in my right jacket pocket, dumbass."   
  
Sam patted his pockets. "Oh." He pulled the matches out and handed them to Dean. "Here."  
  
Dean took the matches, flipped them over in his palm for a minute. He didn't know how, but he somehow knew that this was it. This was going to work, and in a few minutes he'd be back in his own body again and able to look Sam in the eye - _really_ in the eye for the first time in days. For the first time since they did what they did. And he had no idea how he felt about that.   
  
"Dean," Sam said quietly. Dean looked up, looked at Sam staring back at him with his own eyes. "It's all right," Sam said, his voice soft.   
  
"Yeah," Dean said, thickly. He swiped a match against the back of the book and watched the flame burn at the tip. "It's gonna have to be," he said, as he tossed the match on the amulet.   
  
*  
  
After everything was said and done, changing back was just as weird and freaky as when they changed in the first place. The minute the match touched the stone in the necklace, the whole thing began to glow bright blue and white.   
  
Dean grabbed his head as pain exploded behind his eyeballs. "Jesus, Sam!" he shouted.   
  
Sam grabbed his arm, the same way he did last time and Dean swung his hand around trying to find some part of Sam to connect with.   
  
The minute his palm touched Sam's knee, he heard Sam shout. Felt everything pulse away from his body - shocking light and a piercing noise - and then he was rushing back, crashing against the ground.   
  
"Dean." He heard Sam's voice. _Sam's voice_ , and struggled to open his eyes.   
  
"Yeah. I'm all right." He blinked slowly.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that he was on the opposite side of where he'd started from. Where Sam had been sitting. When his eyes cleared, he held a hand in front of his face. Recognized his own skin, the ring circling his finger.   
  
When he looked up he saw Sam, sitting across from him and smiling.   
  
"It worked," Sam said quietly, and god, Dean knew they hadn't gone anywhere. Sam hadn't left; Dean wasn't away on vacation or anything, but for whatever reason he felt like this was the first time he'd seen Sam in days.   
  
Sam's hair was falling on front of his eyes, and Dean knew what that felt like now. Without thinking he reached over and pushed Sam's bangs off his forehead.   
  
Sam looked at him like he was nuts. "Dean?"  
  
"Dude, don't you see how much _better_ you can see shit like this? Why the hell don't you cut that mop?"  
  
Sam slapped his hand away. "Maybe I leave it like this so I don't have to look at your ugly ass all day long."  
  
Dean grinned. "You love my ass. Admit it."  
  
"Yeah, that's totally it." Sam stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees. He held a hand out and Dean grabbed it and pulled himself up. "Highlight of my life so far has been living in your body for three days."  
  
Dean stretched his arms out, straightened his jacket. Damn, it felt good to be back in his own body again.  
  
He turned his head and smiled at Sam as they walked over to the room. "Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same, but spending three days as a sidekick geekboy wasn't really the best time of my life, to be honest."  
  
Dean also forgot about the extra few inches of reach Sam's arm had until Sam smacked him in the head.  
  
*  
  
The room was exactly how they left it. _Exactly_ , exactly, right down to the twisted sheets that Dean could remember all too vividly fucking his brother on not more than a few hours ago.   
  
They both stopped short just inside the door, staring at the bed. Dean could feel Sam at his back, could smell him, but it was all getting confused in his head now, because what he always thought of as Sam was now also on him, and he could smell himself on Sam, and the whole thing was insane.   
  
And it was making him hard.   
  
Jesus.   
  
Dean cleared his throat and tried to look at anything else. The table, the chair, the wall, anyplace other than the bed as he said, "Sam, listen."  
  
Sam's answer to that was to turn Dean around by the shoulder and kiss him hard on the mouth.   
  
The whole thing was crazy. Crazy and fucked up and completely out of control. Dean slipped his fingers into Sam's hair. Felt Sam's mouth against his, his lips slick and wet, he tongue pushing deep in Dean's mouth. Sam moaned and sighed. His fingers tightened on Dean's shoulders and Dean wanted this more than anything, but goddamn if he couldn't stop thinking.   
  
"Sam, Sam. Wait." He managed to pull back and saw what he'd been dying to see all day. Sam's face, flushed pink in his cheeks. His lips full and wet. Staring at Dean. Wanting Dean. "Sam," he tried to say again.   
  
"I want this," Sam said quietly. "Dude. Don't freak out on me now. You said before that you wanted this too."  
  
"I did," Dean said. "I do. I just don't want you to do something you don't want to."  
  
"I don't think you're listening to me." Sam pushed lightly against Dean's chest with the palm of his hand. He felt himself stumble back, his boots catching on the carpet. "I've wanted this," Sam said again.   
  
Dean took a deep breath.   
  
"I've wanted this a hell of a long time," Sam added.  
  
"Sam, I gotta tell you," Dean widened his eyes. "If we do this. This is all sorts of fucked up, right here."  
  
"Oh, and spending the last three days in someone else's _body_ wasn't?" Sam chuckled. "Dean. This is what we do. Our _lives_ are fucked up. With a capital F. Now we're just adding something we _want_ to it too."   
  
Dean took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sam sat next to him, then grabbed his arm and dragged him until they were both lying back, staring at the ceiling. "Unless _you_ don't want it," Sam said, quietly. "Because I know what you said before, but maybe that was different. Maybe you changed your mind."  
  
Dean got rid of that idea by turning his head and kissing his brother's mouth.   
  
Sam froze for a split-second, before just opening up and giving Dean everything. He ran a hand over the back of Dean's neck, then pulled him down hard, crushing their mouths together. Dean swallowed Sam's whimpers and moans. Slid a leg between Sam's and crawled over him so their chests were pressed together.   
  
"God." Sam turned his head and gasped. His hands were shaking as he pulled Dean's shirt from his jeans and over his head. "God, Dean, what you look like."  
  
"I wanted to see you so fucking bad," Dean panted. He kissed across Sam's throat over to his shoulder. Grabbed the bottom of Sam's shirt and yanked it up and off, letting it fly halfway across the room. "This morning, this is all I wanted to see," Dean breathed.  
  
Sam's cheeks were flushed, his mouth parted and his breathing rough and broken. He bit his lip and Dean reached down to pop the button on his jeans, shoving his hand down Sam's boxers, squeezing him just like he remembered Sam liked from the morning. Slow and hard at first, pressing hard against the head with his thumb. Sam moaned Dean's name, and his own dick throbbed and pressed against the zipper of his jeans.   
  
"Get these open," Sam whispered. He yanked at the button of Dean's pants and barely had the zipper down when he was pulling Dean's cock out, his fingers just this side of too tight. His strokes just a little too rough.   
  
"So fucking good," Dean whimpered. He dropped his forehead against Sam's chest. Squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his cock in the circle of Sam's fist. "I want to see you come, Sam," he bit out, forcing his eyes open. Sam's hair was clinging to his forehead. He had his head tossed to the side, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Look at me. Come on, Sammy."   
  
Sam's eyes flew open. He hooked an arm around Dean's neck and dragged him down so they were kissing, wet and messy as he came all over Dean's fingers and his stomach. "You too," he whispered against Dean's mouth. "Come on. I want to see you now too."  
  
Dean made himself look up. Forced his eyes open and made sure to watch Sam's face, the way he was looking at him. When he finally let go, Sam had pulled him down to kiss him again, and Dean could feel the smile against his lips.  
  
*  
  
They fell asleep for a little while after. Switching bodies back and forth two times in twice as many days was more tiring than Dean had thought. When he woke up Sam was already sitting up in bed, lazily flicking through the channels.   
  
"Anything good on?" Dean asked sleepily.   
  
"Hey, you're up," Sam said, smiling down at him.   
  
Dean stretched his arms over his head. "Yeah. Man, it feels good to be in my own skin again."   
  
Sam laughed. "You got that right."  
  
The TV got less than five working channels. Local news. ESPN. The Weather Channel. Sam flipped through them all another few times, before tossing the remote on the bed and sighing. "I give up. There's shit to watch."  
  
Dean smiled slowly, then reached out and grabbed Sam's arm, dragging him down onto his back. He softly kissed Sam's shoulder, tasting soap and skin. "Let's not watch TV then," Dean said, his voice coming slow and thick. He looked up at Sam and grinned.  
  
Sam blinked and smiled lazily. "Dude. Are you even human? That's what, five times today?"  
  
Dean pretended to count in his head. "No, I think three? Yeah, three. So far, I mean." Sam huffed and Dean cracked up laughing. "What's the matter, Sammy?" he teased. "Can't handle it?"  
  
"I can handle it," Sam answered. He put a hand against Dean's chest and pushed him back. Dean looked up as Sam propped himself on an elbow and half-crawled on top of him. "Don't worry about that."  
  
Dean felt his lips curve. He had no idea how everything went from completely fucked up, to one of the best things to happen in his life, but for once, Dean wasn't going to question anything. He was just going to roll with it. "Yeah?" he teased. "You sure, Sammy?"  
  
Sam's hair brushed against Dean's cheek as he leaned over to kiss the side of his throat. Dean hissed in a breath as Sam whispered, "Positive," across his skin.  
  
"Good." Dean hooked an arm around Sam's neck and pulled him closer. "Now, come here."  
  
  
-end-


End file.
